


Untitled Drabbles Collection

by PrincexSalem



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Non-Inquisitor Lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 03:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincexSalem/pseuds/PrincexSalem





	1. Untitled #1

# Untitled Collection #1

“You have such beautiful eyes.”

The first time is a breathless whisper that tappers into a whimper when lips and teeth catch on her neck. The bites and bruises linger longer than the confusion and certainly longer than the carriage ride to their temporary lodgings in Orlais.

The next time it comes up, they’re in Ferelden. The winding roads of the Frostbacks looming as a problem for the morning. The inn’s warmth much more comfortable. If limited to shared rooms.

“I meant that earlier you know.” In between yawns and stretches as Yaviel claims half of the bed. “And you’re not sleeping on the chair.”

“Yes I am.”

“Mythal, I don’t bite. Unlike some people.” Her fingers drift over the still tender spots on her neck and shoulder.

A private smile.

A stubborn smile right before Solas settles on the aforementioned chair and Yaviel scowls. She knows bait and a challenge but she opts for stretching out further on the bed.

“Beautiful eyes but you’re an ass sometimes.”

“If I remember correctly you were admiring that earlier too.”

A rogue pillow was his only answer.

[](https://werdsmith.com/)  



	2. Untitled #2

# Untitled Collection #2

Yaviel had learned early on that Solas was skittish when it came to touch. Yes. No. Maybe. He reminded her of her clan’s halla sometimes. Always just out of reach if they saw you coming and jittering if they didn’t. Yaviel knew how to deal with skittering halla, not men that followed similar rhythms for affection before bolting as if they’d been burnt.

She knew how to deal with halla like that. Not men.

That was precisely why she’d picked a spot on the floor rather than her bed to sort her notes, humming with the crackling fire before her. Keth expected a report of some kind soon and Yaviel expected she’d be near the end of her notes before Solas even decided to leave his own protective circle of paper to approach her. The evening was young and there was plenty of time to savor the achievement of even getting him to set foot in her room in the first place.

A rustle of paper and yawn from her left, drew her from deciphering the short hand notes she’d made about some landmark or the other along the Storm Coast. Another yawn and Yaviel dutiful kept her eyes down and kept humming. She knew how to deal with halla. Halla that scattered at sudden movements and changes in sound but approached when they didn’t think you’d notice.

She shifted just a little when his arms wrapped around her waist, cheek pressed to the back of her shoulder.

“You’ll hurt your neck if you fall asleep like that.”

 “Mm perhaps.”

She’d have laughed at how sleepy he sounded if she weren’t certain he’d run. “You’re welcome to stay here for the night.” There was a pause and Yaviel half expected to feel Solas’s weight lift and for him to leave.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not and I’d rather not hear that you tripped and broke your neck on the stairs.” She sighed at the derisive snort, gathering her papers back into a pile. “Come on. Let me up.”

There was a moment of protest, both verbal and not, before they were standing and Yaviel threaded her fingers through Solas’s and tugged gently. There was hesitation and she waited, a mental count to ten before she tugged again. “You’re not imposing, vhenan.” There was another moment of stillness before he finally relaxed and relented.

It was easier from there.

Easier to coax him into bed, less so to coax him into letting her find a comfortable spot to continue working through her notes. The sleepy squabbling was short lived as Yaviel finally abandoned the pursuit all together, discarding the stack on the bedside table. There would be time tomorrow for that. Tomorrow and every day after that.

 Tonight was for falling asleep in a tangle of limbs and entwined fingers.


	3. Untitled #3

# Untitled Collection #3

It’s a panicked rush to Suledin, the Keep already cleared and sparsely populated with local refugees and Inquisition soldiers and healers. The steady trickle of blood already stopped and Yaviel’s barely breathing. She is breathing, Kethryllia tells herself, her twin sister has to be she won’t accept anything else.

Falon’Din can’t have her.

Keth isn’t sure if the fervent vow falls from her lips or Solas’s, there isn’t time to ask and she doesn’t want to know. It’s a statement of fact and defiance. Falon’Din can’t have her when there’s still so much left to do and so many people that love her. Vows against gods only work sometimes. Sometimes when someone isn’t already gone, when there’s more than a stuttering heartbeat and shallow breaths.

Bandages. Herbs. Water. Needle and thread for stitches.

She should have been paying attention then this wouldn’t have been necessary. She should have done so many things. So many regrets that just keep multiplying. Doubly so when she realizes that Solas’s hands are shaking. Apologies are smoke in the wind mixed with pleading, bargaining for a life teetering at the edge of the abyss.

Broken.

She’s never seen him this close to falling apart and she can only wonder if this is the beginning or the tail end of something. Something she wasn’t meant to witness. Not that she would say anything. She can’t say anything while her fingers work in tandem with the prayers spilling from her lips. She’s seen enough cracks in Solas that are achingly similar to her own to dare speaking. Not until she’s certain her sister will live.

Only after the stuttering heartbeats steady does she dare to sit back, eyes going from bloodied hands to her sister’s sleeping form to Solas himself. He’s still shaking, still staring at Yaviel and counting her breaths. The others are milling around outside the tent but not daring to enter without permission and Keth finally rouses herself, rising unsteadily to make for the entrance.

Wavering for a moment, hand hovering inches from his shoulder as if trying to decide before she let her hand settle there. No words just a gentle squeeze before she makes her exit. A small sound follows her out and she keeps to herding their companions away.

Let her sister sleep. Let Solas break without prying eyes.


End file.
